


Does He Love You? (Part Three)

by trash_salad



Series: Pink Socks and Backflips [3]
Category: Wynonna Earp (TV)
Genre: F/F, I'm careful about describing some things so don't worry, No sex in this one, a bit of graphic descriptions toward the death, final part
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-05
Updated: 2016-11-05
Packaged: 2018-08-29 04:21:25
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8475142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/trash_salad/pseuds/trash_salad
Summary: The final part in my three part series. The final stretch. A snow storm, a jeep, a birth, and a death. This is life, coming at you 60mph. A seat belt might be a good idea, Waverly Earp.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sensitive_pigeon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sensitive_pigeon/gifts), [mizzfrizzle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mizzfrizzle/gifts).



> Ever had a shitty week? I had two in a row. *takes a deep breath* I got sick with an upper respiratory infection. My brand new car had to be serviced while my family was out of town while I was sick. I decided to quit smoking (I'm tired of coughing), I had family drama, I came out to the remainder of my extended relatives. 
> 
> So as you can understand, writing part three has been a trial and tribulation. I'm sure had I written this when this wasn't going on, it wouldn't be what it is. Which is pretty decent. At least, I'm proud of it. :D
> 
> Please be kind and leave a comment. This might be it for awhile. I need to take a break! Phew. 
> 
> As always, find me on tumblr (the blue hell dimension) @trashsalad
> 
> Feel free to follow, which then I will follow back, and you can send me a message, and we can blab about my work, or the weather, or your new shoes. I will literally, (and I'm not exaggerating when I say this) talk about fucking ANYTHING. 
> 
> Also, this work is dedicated to two pals of mine that I flirt with far too much, sensitive_pigeon and Mizzfrizzle. They are also authors on this site, so you should definitely finish this series, and then read their stuff. All quality, trust me. And you do trust me, right? *laughs maniacally*

            The first time Nicole saw snow was when she was sixteen on Christmas Eve. If it sounds fictional, you can look it up. A freak snow storm on the coast of south east Texas that started at approximately 3 am December 24th, 2004. She was wide awake at the time, a chronic insomniac who never enjoyed the holidays to begin with. Historically, it was the first white Christmas in Houston’s history. In some parts of Texas, it was the first time in 120 years. A Christmas miracle.

            It didn’t feel miraculous then. The holiday season in the Haught household typically meant eggnog drowned in whiskey and arguments that ended in fistfights and remote throwing, so she’d typically sneak off with a pack of Marlboro Reds pilfered from her father’s 10 pack carton—he usually was so hammered he couldn’t even notice the loss—and smoke them until the very early hours of the morning until the calendar day had passed. There wasn’t a Christmas tree or presents to speak of, obviously. Hadn’t been since she was ten years old and Dad had lost his job at Exxon.

            She was out on the porch, feet covered in black heeled, worn out Nike socks dangling off the edge, when she noticed the tiny flakes of snow begin to drift to earth. She sat there, transfixed, long enough that when she looked back at the cigarette gripped between her index and middle finger, there was a stack of ash nearly an inch long.

            “Well… Merry fuckin’ Christmas, then.” She mumbled to herself with the churlish laugh of a sixteen year old, flicking the ash off onto the grass, only to be kissed by a flurry of ice.  

            The second time she saw snow was in Ohio at eighteen years old. Harrison had woken her up by tossing a brand new goose feather lined jacket onto her head while she was asleep.

            “What’s this?” She groaned. She pulled the as of yet unidentified object off her face, and realizing what it was, looked at her Uncle with confusion.

            “It’s December, Nic! We just got a cold front in from Alberta and I went out to try and get the paper and nearly froze my balls off. So I figured it was time to give you your Christmas present early. Go try it on. Then make yourself useful and go get the mail.”

            Nicole groaned, laying back onto the bed.

            “Why? Cuz I ain’t got balls to freeze?”

            “There’s that Texan charm! Go get my bills, Nicole.”

            Nicole shoved the jacket on, grumbling to herself the entire time, and walked out to the front door. When she opened it, she saw the snow was at least two foot high and the possibility of the mail being delivered was neigh impossible. Also, it was a Sunday.

            “Wait a minute.” She said.

            “Gotcha.” Harrison laughed. “The trickery got you out of bed though, didn’t it? Best two fifty I’ve ever spent. Now go play in the snow.”

            Her favorite time seeing snow is now, in Purgatory. Old habits die hard, and Nicole was sleepless on the night before Christmas, but she didn’t spend it smoking outside. She spent that night with the woman she loved gripping at the front of her shirt with one hand, protruding stomach pressed tight and warm against Nicole’s abdomen. Waverly had started sleeping like this in the recent months, mostly due to the night terrors she had on a regular basis. It took a lot of prodding to get the smaller girl to open up about what she’d been dreaming about, but she had a faint idea. The idea that Champ would somehow come like a demon in the night to whisk away their happiness along with his biological child. It was what kept her awake tonight.

            Nicole wasn’t a fool. She knew the other shoe would drop. She wouldn’t dare let Waverly know, but the current radio silence and easy divorce could only mean one thing. He wanted that child. The way that look of disgust slithered across his face when they sat across from each other during the brief divorce meeting suggested it wasn’t about the unborn child, but the symbol she posed to his manhood. They’d emasculated him, and he wanted to punish Waverly for it by taking a child he didn’t even want.

            Mike Hardy, or “Red” as he was known around Purgatory, introduced himself to Nicole as Champ’s father with a handshake too tight to be friendly and a smile that looked suspiciously like a sneer. She’d seen his face before, but couldn’t place where. Later she realized he was a well known (the only) real estate agent in Purgatory, and she’d seen his face on for sale signs, including the one that was in front of Champ and Waverly’s old home.

            He had a tan on his face unnatural to his clearly Anglo-Saxon ancestry (if the last name was any indication), and teeth that were white and as natural as Xerox paper. Red had an air about him that Nicole instantly recognized as affluence, and when they sat divvying out assets, he looked a bit too pleased that Waverly easily signed over the house, Champ’s truck, and whatever they may have obtained while they were together with practically no protest. She could sense that Waverly was afraid, and it was confirmed when the younger girl gripped nervously at Nicole’s right hand under the table as she signed the finalized papers. Nicole knew it wasn’t practical to try and hash it out with people who clearly were out for blood, but it did make her skin itch that Waverly wouldn’t at least try to fight for some kind of retribution—she was owed alimony, at the least. After all, Nicole didn’t move in until his spot had been vacated. Champ didn’t see it that way, but it was the truth.

            Regardless, signatures were scratched onto the dotted line, opposing small town divorce lawyers shook hands, and everything seemed to be wrapped nicely in a bow. The house was sold and Champ and Red left that meeting smug. The child was not yet born, however. A divorce settlement couldn’t assign custody. As of this Christmas morning, Waverly was still heavily pregnant, the c-section allotted for December 29th, so Nicole spent Christmas morning awake, staring out into the darkness of her apartment bedroom. She listened to snow flakes lightly clink against the window pane, stewing in anxiety created by the unknowable. The hand on her shirt clenched, and the breath that was blowing against her neck stopped again for the second time that night.

            “Waves? Breathe, baby. It’s okay.” She cooed, and Nicole rubbed soothing circles on Waverly’s lower back. The breathing returned, staccato and then rhythmic and even. Nicole could breathe again as well. Immediately her mind returned to flipping over every stone of possibility. It was in her nature to do so.

            Nicole wondered if maybe she should find a therapist in town for her and Waverly. She’d agreed to tell her about her past, but it remained unsaid, dangling between them. She’d long ago laid foundation over old wounds left by her parents, but Waverly still knew very little. It wasn’t a lack of trust, just the desire not to add more to Waverly’s litany of worries. She knew Waverly would be distressed to know about her upbringing, and that she’d try to shoulder that trauma for the both of them. So naturally she’d curtail around the subject any time Waverly would probe, sometimes even sinking as low as trying to kiss her way out of the conversation, just so she wouldn’t weigh Waverly down with her past.

            It’d been long enough. Nicole needed to tell Waverly the truth. She wasn’t going anywhere, and she deserved to know what made her who she was. She laid gentle fingers on the clenched fist on her shirt, and ever so slowly peeled one finger at a time away from her oversized Cleveland Cavaliers shirt until she was free. She paused, waiting for the girl to stir. When Waverly merely licked her lips and continued to sleep uninterrupted, she eased off the mattress and headed for one particular box in her closet.

            Waverly woke at 8am to a chilly room and a girlfriend sitting cross legged with an album draped in her lap. The girl had reading glasses on her face, and was looking sadly at a photograph she held in her hand.

            “What are you looking at?” Waverly asked, as she rubbed the sleep out of her eye.

            Nicole let out a weary sigh.

            “A little girl who isn’t very happy.” At this Waverly eased herself off the bed, ignoring the fact she had to pee to take a peek at the small photo the red head held in her hand.

            “Is that you?” Waverly asked, trying to temper her excitement at this development. Nicole wordlessly handed over the photo. In it, a red headed girl with soft brown eyes was wearing a flowery dress that didn’t appear to fit. She wore a facial expression contorted with a frown. It was almost comical how obvious it looked that she was about to cry.

            “Are you crying because of the dress or something else?” Waverly asked, a sad smile on her face.

            Nicole could only let out a huff of laughter, because she remembered that moment as soon as she’d come across the photo.

            “I’m crying because my Dad whooped me for not wanting to put that dress on in the first place.”

            “And they took a photo?”

            “Dad always thought it was funny when I cried.” Nicole said, bitterness laden in her tone.

            “I hate your Dad.” Waverly said angrily. “If I see him I’ll kick his ass.”

            “Dad died when I was twenty from lung cancer. He smoked since he was twelve years old.” Nicole took the photo back when Waverly offered it, no longer wanting to look at it. Nicole wanted to rip it in two, but peeled back the album sleeve and placed it onto the adhesive instead.

            “I’m assuming you didn’t go to the funeral.” Waverly remarked with resentment.

            “I didn’t even know about it until Harrison told me six months later. Took that long to circulate through the family.”  

            “Harrison?” Nicole didn’t want to tell her about him this way, but she had no choice. Wordlessly, she flipped through the one photo album she had, until she got toward the end. She couldn’t help the smile on her face when she peeled back the photo paper to grab at one of the many pictures she had with him.

            “Here. That’s Hare. He took me in when I got kicked out.” Waverly sat at the edge of the bed, tired from the exertion of merely standing that long this late in her pregnancy. Nicole scooted back when she handed the picture over.

            She was 20 in the photo, and they were both standing on a lake dock. Harrison was pointing proudly at Nicole’s fishing line, and the tiny Golden shiner that lay on the end of the hook. Nicole, in on the joke, held up the line as if she held a massive sea bass. Waverly laughed.

            “That’s a huge fish, Nicole. I’m impressed.” The grin split Nicole’s face instantly.

            “Right? That was my first time fishing. Be nice. All I had was cheese on the line. I couldn’t bear to kill the worms he brought.” Waverly looked shocked.

            “You? Unable to kill a worm? I can’t believe it.”

            “I used to be terrified of everything, Waves. I needed help to learn to be brave.” Nicole seemed unbothered by the depth and rawness of that statement, taking the picture back and smiling at it as if she hadn’t said the most soul bearing thing Waverly had ever heard. She could hardly imagine a Nicole that wasn’t willing to step head first into the line of fire.

            “What were you scared of?” Waverly asked nervously. She wasn’t sure if her heart could take the truth.

            Nicole didn’t look at Waverly then, just gently ran her fingers over the crease she couldn’t get out of the album page.

            “That I’d turn into Dad.”

 

            Wynonna arrived about two hours later with Xavier Dolls and an unwrapped Nike shoe box. She insisted Waverly open it, and when a pair of hideous, purple, and toddler sized sneakers were revealed, she commented that they were for ‘Waverly Jr. when her feet grow bigger’. Waverly placed the shoes back in the box with a smile, and made eye contact with Nicole when she said she had some socks that would go perfectly with purple. Nicole merely blushed at the thought, scratching the back of her neck before looking away.

            “How’d you manage to make it here on time for once?” Nicole asked suddenly. She looked over at Xavier, who up until this moment had been quiet. “You have anything to do with this, Mr. Military Time?”

            “Why does he get the credit? What if I set my alarm?” Wynonna exclaimed, crossing her arms with irritation. Waverly merely raised her eyebrow.

            “Did you?”

            “No. You could’ve given me the benefit of the doubt though.”

            “It wouldn’t be a benefit, Wyn. It’d be charity.”

            “Fuck you!” The whole exchange sounded hostile, but the two sisters were laughing like school children, and Nicole and Xavier exchanged a silent look of amusement.

            They opened gifts on the couch. There wasn’t a Christmas tree, though Nicole had taken the time to string up lights around the living room to give off a Christmassy vibe, which was much more for Waverly than it was for her. As much as Harrison had attempted to rebrand the holidays for her in the time they spent together, Christmas still struck Nicole’s tongue as bitter. Old memories faded like tattoos. It’d take longer than eight or nine years for her to get over a childhood full of shitty holidays.

            “Were you an only child?” Xavier asked her in the kitchen when they both went there to get a break from the excitement. The question came as a surprise to Nicole—he hadn’t said very much in the time he’d been here.

            “Well… sort of. I have a half sister from my Dad’s previous marriage, Hayley. She lives in Georgia. Only met her once when I was nine. She’s seven years older than me.”

            “Hmmm.” A man of little words.

            “How could you tell?”

            “Some things are just obvious.” She couldn’t quite tell if she should be offended at that, but took it in stride. She shrugged. They refilled the non alcoholic egg nog, and headed back into their respective significant others. Waverly immediately opened her mouth to ask a question.

            “They’re pasteurized Waves, don’t worry.” Nicole said automatically. “Non-alcoholic as well, Wynonna.” She added, stating the obvious.

            “We can solve that.” Wynonna chirped. When nobody laughed, she rolled her eyes. “I’m fucking kidding! Sheesh!”

            Waverly got Nicole a new cross body holster for her gun, which surprised her.

            “What’s this, babe?”

            “You’re always wearing that one on your belt, and you said something about how it always warps your belts and you have to replace them. So… uh… problem solved?”  Before Nicole could get a word in edgewise, Wynonna was already tisking.

            “Nope, tell her the real reason!”

            “Wynonna! Fine. I think it’s cooler.”

            “You said, and I quote, it’s ‘sexier’.” Wynonna smirked proudly at Waverly’s obvious embarrassment. Nicole licked her lips so she couldn’t grin like a fool.

            “Noted.” Was all she could manage. Waverly looked up at Nicole shyly, before grabbing Nicole’s gift and beginning to open it.

            Inside the box was a very expensive goose lined jacket from The North Face. Waverly was very distraught when it dawned on her that her old standby blue puffy jacket wouldn’t do this winter, seeing as she was heavily pregnant.

            “Oh my god. It’s gorgeous. Not to mention I am always freezing!” Waverly was so excited. Xavier even looked impressed.

            Things seemed to settle down, until Wynonna piped up.

            “Oh yeah, forgot. One more present.” She pulled a tiny box out of her pocket, handing it to Waverly. Playfully the younger girl shook it near her ear. It rattled.

            “What’s this? Jewelry?” Waverly asked.

            “Yeah. It’s two ton earrings.” Wynonna snarked, earning her a warning glare from Nicole and Xavier, in on the secret.

            Waverly opened then dropped the box, and a pair of Jeep keys smacked on the tile floor.

            “What’s that? Is that what I think that is?” Waverly was numb, her eyes already beginning to well up with tears.

            Everyone smiled then, even stoic ex-USMC Officer Xavier Dolls.

            “Yeah, baby girl. It’s from Gus.” Wynonna said, a tad choked up already. Waverly stilled, looking up with a fearful expression lined with a twinge of hope.

            “What?” She whispered. That’s when Nicole piped in.

            “There’s a field trip planned, if you’re up to it.”

            “There’s _more_?” Waverly said, hands lifted to her face that shook with anticipation.

            They took Waverly outside to take a look at her new ride, and she let out a tiny squeal at the sight of the big mudding tires on the Jeep and its overwhelming _redness._

            “Really? It’s mine?” She asked, waddling over to it with her brand new jacket covering her nearly down to her knees. Nicole smiled brightly, watching the smaller woman as she made her careful way to the vehicle.

            “Wow.” Waverly whispered. The Jeep meant more than transportation. It meant freedom. It didn’t need to be said, however. Wynonna looked away as not to betray her soft emotions, and Nicole could only hold her breath. She knew the feeling of emancipation. Christmas didn’t seem so bad to her now, all things considered.

            Nicole had driven them in her much warmer truck to a location everyone initially declined to disclose to Waverly, who sat tense in anticipation. She got more confused as the road they travelled became familiar, and when they eventually made their way to the gravel path toward the homestead, Waverly became quiet. Nicole remained undisturbed, pulling in with confidence and parking the truck.

            “Ready?” She said to Waverly. Waverly didn’t move.

            “Is this some kind of trick?”

            “No. I promise.”

            Gus opened the front door to the homestead as they approached, smiling a bit hesitantly with her arms open for Waverly to come into them. Waverly did so with ease. She approached slowly, tears in her eyes, and hugged her aunt. It was as if all the harsh words and arguments between them dissipated like long huffs of warm air in the frigidity of winter. They still had things to talk out and resolve, along with apologies and tears, but the hug was warm, long, and forgiving, and that was enough.

            Xavier watched this with a stony face, but Wynonna gripped his hand, sniffling just a bit, and he held it. He knew when to be supportive. He couldn’t quite relate to the drama, but he didn’t have to. Joyous moments were still enjoyable to vacation in, even as a bit of an outsider.

            Walking in to see the house showed just how much time had been put in during the few remaining months of pregnancy Waverly had spent with Nicole. The officer had ‘supposedly’ worked extra hours, but Waverly knew immediately she’d pitched in on this. The home looked like it had come out of a monthly issue of Homes and Gardening. Furniture had been reupholstered, which Xavier inspected with the eye of a man who’d obviously helped, and everything had been buffed clean—wooden floors refinished and sealed with care, with new appliances everywhere.

            Waverly had been suspiciously silent as she slowly wandered the open space. Nicole, a bit worried now at the lack of response, looked to Wynonna and Gus.

            “You want to check out the upstairs?” Wynonna offered. Waverly, still reticent, simply nodded.

            Nicole helped her up the stairs—a bit of an effort so late in pregnancy—and they all made their way single file toward a particular room that held vested interest for all of them.

            The baby’s room.

            The walls were a soft muted yellow, with a delicate crib in the middle. It was painted white with soft cushions covered in patterns lining its antique frame. Waverly waddled up close to take a look; there were tiny cartoon dogs and kittens, drawn in an antique style on plush fabric. They weaved around each other, playing and chasing tail to tail. Waverly’s face was soft with awe and wonder.

            “It’s beautiful.” She whispered. Nicole smiled just a little, turning to everyone who was stacked around the front door. Gus had her hands to her face, holding back tears.

            Waverly took a delicate hand and spun the mobile above the crib. It held little unicorns, which tinkled gently as they spun.

            “Baby, this is our home, now.” Nicole whispered.

            “I know.” Waverly replied. She buried her face in the taller woman’s chest and heaved a long sob. Nicole held her, to stand as the pillar that Waverly could finally rest against.

 

            Things moved along. It was a concentrated effort of vehicles and planning and boxing and unboxing, but eventually Waverly and Nicole were moved into the homestead, and Wynonna graciously declined the invite to live with them. She chose to live with Xavier Dolls instead. It made Waverly sad she couldn’t have her sister with her all the time, but the distance was miniscule and healthy, and Wynonna was there almost every day to help her settle in.

            The day arrived. Nicole carefully drove Waverly the thirty minute long drive out of town to the nearest hospital, where Waverly was set up for her cesarean section which had gone graciously according to plan.

            Now Nicole, Wynonna, and Gus sat in a waiting room, waiting for the hospital to finish prepping Waverly. Nicole had wanted to be in the room with Waverly during delivery, but reality was making her nervous. They were dating, but what was she to that child in the eyes of the law? They weren’t married. That child wasn’t biologically hers. She watched the door to the waiting room with a nervous tick, expecting Champ to somehow come waltzing in the place, demanding entrance to their lives. He was a thief in the night and she was terrified.

            “Miss Haught?” Came a nurse from nowhere. “Ms. Earp has requested you be beside her during the procedure. Please follow me so we can prep you for surgery.”

            Small town hospitals occasionally were progressive. She forgot she wasn’t in Texas. So she stood, placing a small and disgusting cup of heavily creamed coffee on a side table and followed the young looking nurse to wherever she lead.

            Nicole looked at herself in the mirror and laughed at the absurdity. She was entirely covered in blue. Blue scrubs, blue hair net, hair nets on her sneakers. She even wore neoprene blue gloves. The nurse came in, looked at her, and smiled.

            “Are you ready, Mom?” The nurse asked, sincerely.

            “Mom?” Nicole replied, dumb founded.

            “Well that’s what you’ll be, isn’t it?”

            It hadn’t quite hit Nicole until that moment. What she was in all of this. Her part to play. She turned and looked at the other woman, who seemed open to this stranger, as well as this situation.

            “I suppose so. Wow.” The nurse merely chuckled, and held out a hand.

            “I’ll walk you in. Ms. Earp is ready for you.”

            The tarp had been set up between Waverly’s line of sight and the prepped area for incision. Nicole held Waverly’s hand, and the smaller woman’s eyes flickered open and shut. The epidural had been given, and she was in the lovely precipice of medicated euphoria that held her in and out of reality.

            Soon came the cry. A small choked sob, ringing through the air. A rush of movement, a rubber bulb cleaning nostrils and mouth. The child, small and screaming, was rushed to be cleansed and then suddenly held in a hover over Waverly’s chest.

            “Help me bare it, Nicole.” Waverly muttered tiredly. Nicole reached forward with gloved hands and tugged her girlfriend’s gown down enough that skin to skin contact could be made. Waverly reached up to hold her child, who shivered in sterile air.

            “Whitney.” She trembled with joy. “Welcome, Whitney.”

 

            “I’m so sick of friggin jello.” Waverly pouted. She grabbed the huge and unwieldy television remote and turned off the tv angrily.

            “It’s good for healing.” Nicole said with a smirk.

            “Says who?”

            “The Wikipedia article I read just now. You know, the first time you complained.”

            “Were the sources cited?” Waverly huffed.

            Nicole laughed. It would technically qualify as a snort if anyone qualified were there to judge.

            “I want Whitney.”

            “She’s coming, baby. She’s just in observation for now. Your sister and Gus are on their way. Just be patient, okay?”

            “Why?” The epidural hadn’t quite made its way out of Waverly’s system as of yet, and the new mother alternated between complaining and scratching her neck.

            Nicole didn’t answer that question. She read more of her book, which suspiciously to Waverly looked like a graphic novel. Her vision was a bit blurry at the moment but she could barely make out the title. Strangers in… Paradise? What in the hell was that about?

            “What are you reading?”

            “A book.”

            “Funny. What’s Strangers in Paradise?”

            “When you’re walking around again, and have _patience_ , maybe I’ll let you borrow it.”

            Waverly tried another spoonful of the lime green substance.

            “God I hate jello.”

 

            Wynonna stared at the tiny blonde haired baby through the thick glass like it was a train set.

            “I want to touch that baby and kiss her so fuckin’ hard!” She grunted aggressively. She smooshed her face against the glass, and Xavier couldn’t help but roll his eyes. Gus patted her on the back with a bit of good humored pity.

            “At least let your sister have a chance to do it first.” Gus chuckled.

            “Nicole, did you know she’d have another W name?” Wynonna asked as the red headed woman approached with coffee and M&M’s in hand.

            “What? No. Is there a significance?” She asked, confused.

            “I dunno. Maybe. Seeing as my name is _Wynonna,_ hers is _Waverly,_ our sister’s was _Willa…”_

            “Ah. Okay. Well no, she’d kept the name to herself. I never pried it out of her.”

            “Hmmph. Well it’s a nice name, at least.” Wynonna admitted.

            “Sure is. Very cute. You do know that glass is probably filthy, right?”

            Wynonna managed to lift herself off of the glass partition, and took the M&M bag out of Nicole’s grasp before she could get in a word edgewise.

            “Thanks!”

            Nicole looked over to Dolls, who shrugged in apology.

            “Sorry. Not the guardian. Just the boyfriend.”

            Nicole’s eyebrow twitched at this sudden update. She smiled though, happy that Wynonna was healing with someone who seemed to love her enough to understand her many quirks.

            “I’m gonna fetch more of that disgusting coffee.” Wynonna shouted down the hallway. “Make sure no one steals that baby!”

            It was a joke, but Nicole felt a chill run down her spine. Champ would have to be notified. It made her sick to even think of him. Responsibility was important, however. So she took out her phone and called her lawyer’s office.

            “Yes. Hi, can I speak to Mr. Rasherford? It’s Nicole Haught. Thank you.”

            Gus watched as Nicole walked over to a nearby seat in the hallway near the snack machine. Waverly would be asking where she was soon, but she needed to notify her representation so the message could be passed along. Her fingers twitched with nervousness, and she watched from her seat as the nurse took Whitney into her arms and placed her in a cart to be rolled presumably to Waverly’s room. She told the family attorney all the information she knew, and watched as the nurse made her way through a series of locked doors until she was out of sight.

            “I understand. Goodbye.” She hung up, placing her iPhone in her pocket and standing. Gus walked over to her, face painted with both sorrow and understanding.

            “He gifted her with that child, and nothing else.” The older woman sighed.

            “Yes. I’m so terrified, Gus, of what he can do. His father scares me much more.”

            “All we can do is pray, if you’d like to.” Nicole was never raised religious. Her father prayed to Jack Daniels more than any religious figure she could think of. Silently she stood there, laid her arm over Gus’ shoulder, and the woman said ‘Our Father’ silently in that hallway. She wondered if whoever heard it would listen. It didn’t matter in the end. To say something, to put it in the hands of fate, was really all she could do.

            Whitney was seven pounds eight ounces. She took to Waverly like any baby to her mother, and her tiny fingers clutched at large adult pointer fingers in a predictable grasp response that delighted Wynonna like no other.

            “She’s a genius. I’m calling it. Despite Champ’s shitty genes.” Wynonna proudly announced.

            “Stop cussing! She can hear you!” Waverly chided, before returning to her cooing at the baby in her arms.

            Suddenly everyone turned to Nicole, who stood awkwardly near the bed.

            “I think everyone’s gotten a turn but you, Nicole.” Gus gently suggested.

            “Me? Oh… oh that’s…” Nicole backtracked, before meeting Waverly’s threatening eyes.  “Hand her over then. Just… don’t get mad at me if I hold her wrong, okay?”

            Nicole didn’t hold Whitney wrong. Gus gently guided her hand to support the tiny baby’s head, and she held the delicate bundle in her arms. Whitney huffed little puffs of air into her face, and she smelled like formula and baby powder. It would seem disgusting, but it was a wonderful smell. Waverly watched her with a tired smile on her face.

            Whitney stared up at Nicole with blind milky green eyes. They held eye contact like that for a moment, and the baby was quiet, as if observing Nicole as much as she observed Whitney. Suddenly a flash went off in the room.

            “Shit! You scared me!” Nicole whispered at Wynonna, who held up her phone with a goofy smile.

            “Sorry, man. I just got a good phone this weekend. I had to take a picture of that.”

            “We didn’t have a baby shower.” Waverly mumbled half asleep. Everyone turned to her.

            “I knew we forgot something.” Gus said with a sad sigh.

            “It’s okay. I’ll shower later.” The new mother yawned, before falling asleep.

            Wynonna turned to Xavier and rolled her eyes.

            “She’s lost her fucking mind.”

            “I think it’s the meds, Wynonna.” Dolls supplied sarcastically.

           

            A small cluster days of recovery in the hospital, and Waverly and Whitney were finally ready to be brought home. Nicole wheeled the two of them to her truck, Wynonna and Dolls following with the carrier slung through his right arm. Gus had panicked to buy Waverly all the baby essentials she needed, and thankfully those she told had chipped in to buy whatever she needed. Surprisingly even Sheriff Nedley and many at the station had pitched in a collective giftcard. Nicole didn’t want to burden Waverly with details, knowing the first thing the new mother would want to do is sit down and attempt to write thank you notes to all involved, which was the last thing she needed to be doing instead of resting.

            When they approached the doors of the vehicle, Whitney was sorrowfully passed off to Wynonna, who with a natural motherly grace that surprised practically everyone, tenderly laid the not even a week old baby into her carrier, cursed a bit at the convoluted belts, and then managed to secure the carrier in the right direction into the back of the extended cab.

            “We’re gonna do this like we’re dancing, baby. One leg between your two, grab my shoulders, and we’ll pivot.” Nicole easily lifted Waverly out of her wheelchair, and Dolls lifted her, much like Wynonna had Whitney, into the front seat of the Ford and gingerly strapped her in.

            “Thank you.” Waverly said shyly. Dolls just blinked his long lashes, licking his lips and nodding as if it was the easiest thing in the world to be there for these practical strangers in such an expanse of time.

            Xavier Dolls wasn’t your typical man, however. He had been a weapons specialist in the Marine Core, but had seen enough raw humanity to know genuinely good people when he encountered them. Wynonna had come to him in the way one might encounter a wound. She was so open, showing the visceral core beneath the skin. He wasn’t one for charity cases, but raising a mother with schizophrenia since he was a child in the suburbs of Phoenix, Arizona made him very good at being a calming presence. He’d been managing his mother’s prescriptions since he was old enough to ride his bike to the pharmacy; long ago learning how to forge a signature and lie when he said he had his mother’s permission to be anywhere doing anything. When his mother had been taken as a ward of the state after Medicare had run out, he was eighteen years old. He had managed to make it through high school with a very high GPA, and all he wanted was to be useful. The man who lured him into the marines promised him he would. A war provided the rest. It also provided him PTSD flashbacks and night sweats. He left Kandahar a black man in his mid twenties as well as a veteran in a political climate that changed as much as it refused to. So he’d found himself chasing after anyone who needed his help. Wynonna had chased him. So that was the refreshing change. All he needed to be was a calming presence for anyone, and she allowed it.

            It was gratifying to help Waverly be a mother. In a sense he was paying it forward, helping a new mother find her way the best he knew how. She wasn’t alone, and Nicole had the discipline and otherworldly calmness he knew would make a very good parent. He just hoped she could see it in herself in time. Up until then she’d just been a girlfriend. Now was the time for Nicole to step up and be a mother.

            “Ready?” Nicole said to the occupants of the car.

            “C’mon already!” Wynonna chirped. She looked down at Whitney, who was asleep, her button nose and pouty lips already reminding her of her sister.

           

            Robert Del Rey was a ruthless attorney, with an intimidating presence in the court of family law. Practically every case he took on ended up settled out of court in one way or another because of his sheer ability to crawl under anyone’s skin. So when Champ and his father walked in to his office, he could smell a profit before they’d even sat for a consult. He smiled that devilish smile, accentuating the white streak of a beard so delicately trimmed, and leaned forward in his leather executive chair.

            “It’d be my pleasure to take on your case, Mr. Hardy.” He sneered.

            Champ was intimidated, even thought they’d technically just hired this man to win back his child. A child he didn’t even know the name of. His Mother seemed excited already, and his stomach was full of a casserole she’d eagerly fed him. He looked into that man’s cold eyes, and thought he might throw it up right there in that office.

           

            Waverly laid in bed, heavily medicated and sore and exhausted. Nicole did her usual fussing, arranging then rearranging pillows and blankets, until Waverly had enough and grabbed Nicole’s hand when it came into reach.

            “Come to bed. Please. Watching you is making me tired.” They’d brought a bassinet into the room, and it was perched at the foot of the bed. In it the baby had managed to sleep, quiet for who knew how long.

            Nicole sighed and nodded. Lifting her shirt off and changing into more comfortable clothes before crawling into bed with her girlfriend.

            “I’m sorry. I just want to be useful.” Nicole sighed.

            “You are useful. You love me. Let’s sleep.”

            So they did. Waverly couldn’t turn to her side because of the deep stitches she had, but her left arm snaked out to grab a handful of Nicole’s shirt. Nicole looked down, and her full lips twitched with a smile.

            “I love you Waverly Earp.” Nicole said, kissing the other woman on the forehead.

            “I love you too.” Waverly whispered. This prompted Nicole to freeze, her lips hovering above Waverly’s hairline.

            “You do?” She desperately hoped the other woman wasn’t too groggy.

            “Yes. I’m… sorry. I always knew. I just didn’t want to curse us.” Waverly refused to look the other woman in the eyes, turning her head to look away. It was then a warm tear leaked out against her will, slipping down to kiss the bed spread.

            “You’d never curse us, Waverly. But thank you for… saying it.”

            Waverly turned her head. Her greenish brown eyes were watery and red lined.

            “Can we sleep?” She asked, her voice pitchy and soft.

            “Yes, baby. We can sleep.”

           

            “You know, right?” Xavier asked as they lay in bed.

            “Know what?” Wynonna returned tiredly.

            “That they’re dating. That they’re probably going to get married. That’s your sister is gay, to name a few.” Dolls lifted off, tapping his fingers one by one with his opposite index. He was bare chested, showing off a scar that lined his chest he’d still hesitated to explain.

            Wynonna turned on her side, running her finger down the length of it.

            “Of course I know, you idiot.”

            “Maybe you should say that to your sister, then.” He replied impassively.

            “I want her to tell me first.” Wynonna challenged, clenching her jaw.

            “Is that fair?”

            “Why the sudden interest?” She leaned up, their thin blanket slipping down to bare her nudity.

            “I guess I shouldn’t have any.” He sighed, turning away from her. She looked down, a bit saddened, then flipped over to turn off the light.

            She took her bottom lip between her index and thumb, swallowing her dry throat. Why was it every time she thought of things she should do but couldn’t she wanted a drink? Her weakness seemed to follow her from border to border no matter where she managed to run to. She forced herself to close her eyes and will sleep to come without the familiar burn.

            Robert Del Rey never thought gathering witness testimony could be hard until he’d asked the town folk about Waverly and Nicole. No matter where he went, the red head’s reputation was solid. He soon learned to keep Champ’s name out of his mouth. Old women would cringe, past employers and old neighbors would turn their heads in disgust. He was unreliable, as an employee, as a friend, even as a rodeo champion. No matter where Del Rey would go, he couldn’t find anything against Waverly, but a stack of negative opinions on his client. His strategy turned to trying to appeal to homophobia in a typical small town, but even that seemed to fail. Many could turn a blind eye to sexual indiscretion when the very homosexual you spoke of let you off with just a warning for running a stop sign, and the girl you grew up with in school would often let you cheat off her chemistry homework.

            Red Hardy had waltzed into the law office expecting to be handed an easy win for his son, and left enraged at Champ’s foolishness. His son was a fuck up. He wanted more than anything to let him know.

            Champ listened to Red lambast him again like he’d done since he was a chubby kid growing up with a mother who never raised a word in his defense. He had once turned to food to soothe his sadness, then to bullying, then to the rodeo. Now all he had was weed. An acquaintance of his from the construction site offered him two joints in exchange for a six pack of beer, and anxious enough to take any offer that came to him, he happily obliged. The fact the joints came from his boss’ sixteen year old nephew didn’t much matter to him.

            To put it politely, he was blazed out of his mind and watching cartoons before he went to work that next morning. He’d gone to the duty list stapled up against plywood, and saw he’d been placed in charge of the bulldozer. Climbing up the side of a CAT wouldn’t be an issue to anyone sober. But after trekking through mud and snow, it was inevitable his steel toed boot would slip. Before he landed, his thoughts were the following.

            “Fuck.”

            His head met the side of a steel beam laid conveniently underneath him. His death wasn’t sudden. He laid there, staring blindly up at nothing, for a good minute as his coworkers gathered around him. Death is funny like that. He never got to know her name. Had his brain not been splattered all over the ground and beam, maybe he would have thought about his daughter and been at peace.

            Life is tidy sometimes. Messes can clean themselves up before they’re made. Justice can occasionally be served. When Waverly and Nicole got the news, it took the air out of their lungs, but relieved them at the same time.

            “I feel so terrible!” Waverly cried. She didn’t grieve him, just what he stood for once. Once upon a time he used to applaud her efforts to please. Nicole knew better than to challenge her sorrow. However, when she tried to reach into the well for an emotion, the bucket came back empty. So all she did was hold Whitney, kiss her small cherub face, and try to thank that pathetic fuck for giving her the chance to be a mother. It was all she could do.

              

            The doorbell to Annie’s Antique’s chimed as a very tall woman came in.

            “Say hi to Momma, Whitney!” Nicole cheerfully asked.

            A small girl with hair ash brown and half way down her back, ran in excitedly through the doorway.

            “MOMMA!” She screamed. She zipped past the desk, to a woman reading a novel about pirates and maidens. She was two pages from finally finishing it, three years after she’d put it down.

            “Woah there!” Waverly laughed. She grabbed the small girl under her armpits and lifted her up, noticing the fact that her socks were pink and didn’t match the rest of her outfit. She looked from them to Nicole, making a face of cynicism. “Really?”

            Nicole waved her hands in the air in mock surrender.

            “It’s symbolic! Happy anniversary, baby.” She smiled then, pulling off her black Sheriff’s hat and laying it crookedly on the shelf of an endcap.

            Waverly extended a hand, beautiful diamond ring glinting in the natural light pouring in from the front door.

            “I want donuts, Mom!” Whitney screeched in Nicole’s direction, prompting Waverly to slightly lift the three year old away from her ear, now deafened.

            “She doesn’t take after you in that regard, does she.” Nicole snarked, eyebrow raised.

            “F—heck no!” Waverly supplied. Whitney looked suspicious, snaking her small hand over her mother’s mouth and pinning it shut.

            “Looks like you’ve been censored.” Nicole offered. “C’mon Whit, let’s get you the strawberry ones you like. You,” Nicole said, pointing toward her wife with an incriminating finger. “I’ll see you after you’re done selling dusty things to old people.”

            Waverly could only laugh, picking back up her book where she left off. She’d really have to lend this one to Wynonna. You know, if Xavier didn’t steal it first.

             

**Author's Note:**

> Thoughts? Comments? Stalk me on tumblr at @trashsalad
> 
> Oh and PLEASE comment. You don't know the joy it brings my little heathen soul. What did you think about Champ? Everyone else's fate? 
> 
> If anyone's wondering, Wynonna and Waverly did have a heart to heart. There were kisses and hugs, but man, I just didn't think it needed to be shown here. Sometimes suggestions are enough, right? Yeah. Subtlety is key.
> 
> If anyone is interested, here's a photo of me very upset taken by my uncle after making me cry. Any guesses what line was inspired by this photo? 
> 
> http://imageshack.com/a/img921/2094/CElnyO.jpg


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